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**01-14-2013, 11:49 AM**

...

...

...Oh, Peter...

Let me tell you.

I've been put through what some would call torturous situations in my life.

I've been injected with every lobotomizing fluid known to man in a misguided attempt to relax the paranoid voices in my head. I’ve known

However, on a more pertinent to you note, I've had more... guided attempts at ending my suffering.

I've been electrocuted, burned, submerged in ice cold AND boiling water. I've been thrown high off of things and been forced underground for extended periods of time.I've been forced into deep dark places like a worm and been forced to sit there. With nothing but the voices to keep me company as they grew in volume and number.

For months on end...

Didn't exactly have the best teenage years is what I'm trying to say.

What I'm also trying to say is that I can tell you from experience: One of the most bitter pains one can experience as it slides down one's throat...

Is disappointment.

What am I getting at Peter?

You're disappointing.

Imagine me, ready to take on Peter Gilmour 2.0, the new AND IMPROVED Peter Gilmour.

And what do I get?

The same pathetic bottom feeder I curb-stomped six months ago.

The same moron who can’t stop repeating himself.

Can’t stop throwing around stupid catchphrases and nicknames.

And can’t stop the endless spew of garbage constantly streaming out of his throat.

Did you not understand Peter? THIS IS YOUR SHOT.

This is your chance to walk away with a championship. To silence the critics and obtain physical proof that you're a force to be reckoned with.

And what do you do? The same stupid bullsh** you were throwing out for no one's entertainment six months ago.

Repeating yourself over and over again without any discernible reason or logic. Without a moment where you came in danger of making a point or convincing anyone you could possibly overcome the odds.

Compare my singles match against Neonero, a verbal chess match followed by a clinic of wrestling mastery between two men of a superior breed.

Compared to that showdown, this match is an angry man having to beat his dog for urinating on the carpet.

Honestly, I was so perplexed by your promo, I have legitimate questions I want answered before I can continue demolishing you in half the time your dementia driven rant went on for:

Why am I the 'so-called' European Champion? I won the European Championship. Doesn't that make me the European Champion?

What are you talking about me saying anything about January 7th? You're attacking me for stupid mistakes you made? Did you watch your own promo and decide to trash talk against yourself this week?

How can you not laugh at your own jokes? How can you say you didn't duck Psico and then immediately explain that you thought the stipulation about him getting your wife as a valet went too far so you didn't accept the challenge? That's ducking. YOU DUCKED A FIXED MATCH!

As was accepting Dark Shadow's Loser Leaves XWF challenge, then getting a lawyer to void your part of the deal. You gutless coward.

Seriously, instead of just laughing at how everyone says the same thing, maybe you should notice the detectable pattern that EVERYONE ELSE HAS NOTICED AND ELECTED TO POINT OUT TO YOU WITH LOGIC AND TANGIBLE EVIDENCE!

...And realize that you really are a cowardly idiot.

Sorry, actually proved what a worthless nothing you are.

Now, I have to pretend like I haven’t already won.

Back to questions I have...

What is your obsession with me taking Tristan Slater to bed? He's gone. Get over it.

Can you go one SINGLE paragraph without referencing your win over Joseph Page and Tax? Seriously. Congratulations. It happened. Move on. It wasn't you conquering a mountain. It was you beating two has-beens that left now and have one more title than you do at the moment. A statistic that is going to stay true after the show tonight.

And finally.

How is it you've only been good for two weeks and you're already a has-been? There is nothing more humorously tragic than someone who triumphed ONE TIME and seriously has nothing else he can say that makes him look impressive.

Congratulations, Peter.

You rode my tag team partner to victory against two decent coat tail riders.

Keep that one on the table. It's a nice card to play. Very impressive.

Hell, keep your triple threat match win there, too. It's the closest thing you have to a second win worth mentioning.

What do I have to counter it?

My debut match here I defeated a seven time world heavyweight champion.

My second and third matches were spent putting the next big monster in the XWF out of commission.

My fourth match was spent decimating a group of self-satisfied veterans who I proved weren't worth a second thought in this company.

One of them was you.

Man who beat Tristan Slater. Most devious plotter in the XWF, stole the title out from under him like a thief in the night.

European Champion fighting a corrupt system in Randall Cross.

Tag Team Champion for two and a half months.

Two Time X-Treme Champion.

Seven Time Heavymetalweight Champion.

XWF Champion.

And BEST.

WRESTLER.

IN THE WORLD.

Of course, neither of our accomplishments really matter. We aren't going to get in the ring tonight and compare resumes.

I don't know if you know this, Peter. Maybe someone didn’t brief you, maybe one of the whores you enjoy purchasing forgot to give you a note from upper management and thus you aren’t as up to date on current events. But tonight?

We're having a wrestling match. And while you are the so-called, NOTE SO-CALLED, ‘King of Wrestling’.

I’m better at it than you are.

And I don't plan on just beating you tonight.

You see, this is a new age in the XWF, Peter.

New players are coming to the stage.

The shape of the game is changing little by little.

This next generation needs someone. A number one man in the organization, if you will.

An impassable beachhead for their best efforts to crash and twist against against like the futile waves of the ocean.

And seeing as how I seem to be the only one in the XWF able to so clearly and cleanly beat someone who told Shane

he should just be given the XWF championship.

I suppose the position should be mine.

The way I plan to cement my place in this new age?

A master piece. A ten minute long one-sided massacre. Every motion perfectly executed, every offense perfectly countered and reversed.

First, I break you physically. Quick shots across the temples until what’s left of your mind is begging you into the fetal position.

A variety of moves to dismantle your body the same way an engineer takes apart an invention to discover how it works. I start with neckbreakers, onto the shoulderbreakers and continue to work my way down until every joint in your body is a screaming torrent of pain.

Around seven minutes forty five seconds, I pick up your limp body. The only thing keeping you up, my strength and technical prowess. Lock into a front face lock.

Logical Conclusion.

And for the next two minutes…

The Fujiwara armbar.

I don’t care if you tap.

I don’t care if you’re conscious or even have a central nervous system capable of comprehending pain at that point.

I don’t even care if the official disqualifies me.

Because I retain on disqualification.

My only goal tonight?

Annihilation on a personal scale. Horrifying inescapable agony inflicted upon one man to terrify a group of newcomers.

That need something to be terrified of.

So, while you aren't walking out of Madness tonight with either of the tag team championships. While I don’t plan on you walking out of Madness at all.

Rejoice, Peter Gilmour.

For when the coming weeks arrive and you're forced to select from your few seconds of personal triumph, moments worth mentioning to show off your experiences to future opponents.

You could pull out beating Tax and Joseph Page.

And you could also mention beating RBI and Kain.

But even more impressive than that, you will be able to list the ultimate accomplishment.

As the man who ushered in the future of the XWF.

By being for one night the canvas of Mark Flynn's violent artwork, his flawless masterstroke.

Peter.

You're welcome.

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